


Strange Magic

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, One Shot, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16560173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: While waiting for her next mission, Ilsa hears an intruder in the safe-house. What will she find, lurking in the dark?





	Strange Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something that came to me in the dead of night, so to speak. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! :)

A creak in the otherwise silent safe-house woke Ilsa from a light sleep. Her eyes shot open, but otherwise, she didn’t move, her breathing remaining deliberately slow and even. Listening for any further sounds, she slowly reached beneath her pillow to let her fingers close around the grip of her gun when another soft creak reverberated throughout the old loft.

Silently slipping from beneath the covers and off the bed, she crept forward to check on the sound, her gun at the ready.

Her naked feet made no sound on the floor, and she was careful to avoid the creaking floorboards she knew were five feet from the bed and under the doorframe. Slipping through the half-open bedroom door and into the loft proper, she pressed her back against the wall and gave her eyes a couple of seconds to adjust to the darkness in the room, no moonlight to illuminate it as there had been in her room.

Her ears picked up labored breathing close to the entrance, and a few moments later, her eyes could make out a dark form slowly making its way over towards the couch in the middle of the room, where it sank down onto it with a quiet groan.

Ilsa’s heart sped up, recognizing the groan at once. Lowering her gun, she pushed off the wall and made her way further into the room and towards the couch, not trying to be quiet any longer.

She saw the dark figure’s posture tense up as her feet purposely hit a creaky floorboard. “It’s me,” she whispered, and the figure relaxed instantly. Ilsa paused beside the couch to fumble for the light switch on the small table lamp, holding her breath as she watched it illuminate the hunched over form on the couch before her.

“What happened?” She asked, kneeling beside the couch to meet her partner’s face, deciding to forego the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here for another two days.

“Stopped some gang members from mugging an elderly couple on my way here,” Ethan muttered, holding his ribs and breathing slowly against the pain. “They shortly won the upper hand.”

Ilsa remained quiet as she reached out to gently grasp his chin, tilting his face up into the light. He had a nasty cut above his left eyebrow and cheekbone, but upon closer inspection, Ilsa decided that they didn’t need stitching. She told him so, and he grunted in relief.

“Let me see your ribs. Take off your shirt while I go get the first aid kit.”

He nodded without a word and she straightened up to head into the small bathroom to grab the first aid kit and a few clean towels. Stopping by the kitchen, she filled a bowl with warm water and headed back towards the couch. Depositing everything on the small couch table, she took a seat beside Ethan and helped him the rest of the way out of his shirt and undershirt, both of which were drenched in blood.

Ilsa bit her lip, as the undershirt stuck to his wounds and he hissed in pain. She carefully peeled it off and let it drop to the floor.

His ribs were already starting to turn an angry red and blue and there was a deep cut on his back, just beneath his right shoulder blade. Another, smaller cut on the small of his back had already stopped bleeding, thankfully.

“Let me get you cleaned up,” she announced and turned to dip a towel into the water, before taking his chin in her hand once more to angle his face into the light. She then carefully dabbed at the wound above his eyebrow, taking care not to inflict any further pain on him. “I hope you kicked their asses,” she murmured as she worked, “because if not, I’ll head out there after I’m done and hunt them down.”

Ethan’s lips twitched. “I don’t think they’ll hurt anyone else anytime soon.”

“Good.”

She continued treating his wounds in silence, occasionally murmuring a quiet ‘sorry’, whenever she dabbed at a spot that made him flinch. He always gave her a gentle smile that read as ‘don’t worry about it’, which made her insides flutter slightly. Possible reasons for that went ignored for now.

Once she had tied up the last of his stitches, had set aside the tools, and bandaged his ribs, he caught her hand gently in his own and gave her fingers a squeeze. “Thanks,” he whispered, his green eyes intense, even in the dim light.

“I’d say _anytime_ , but we don’t really want to make a habit out of this, do we?” She quipped if only to dispel the sudden tension that had settled over them. Or maybe it was just her.

He chuckled lightly and let go of her hand. “You’re right. I’ve had enough bruised and broken ribs to last me a lifetime.”

Ilsa gave him another smile and got up to clean up the mess she had left on the coffee table. Quickly disposing of the bloody rags and bandages, she made a detour to grab a fresh shirt for Ethan to wear and to grab them both a drink.

“Here,” she said when she stopped beside the couch once more. Holding out the shirt for him, she waited until he had donned it - his wounds making the progress a little slower than usual - before she handed him the vodka she had found in one of the cupboards. “We’re out of painkillers, so this will have to do.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Ethan said with a sigh.

She reclaimed her previous spot beside him with a similar sigh, before taking a sip, barely flinching as the alcohol burned down her throat.

“So, want to tell me why you’re here, two days early?” She said after they had sipped at their drinks in companionable silence for several minutes.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him shrug slightly and turn his head to face her. He was resting against the soft cushions, and she mirrored his position, letting her head fall back against the backrest.

“Maybe I just missed your witty charm and calming bedside manner.”

She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes when she saw him grin teasingly at her. “You knew there was need of my calming bedside manner, then?” She tilted her head to face him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “How very mystic of you, Ethan. Any other magic abilities you haven’t told me about?”

“Just a masochist streak a mile wide, but then again, that’s hardly magical. Or a secret.”

“It really isn’t,” she agreed.

They fell back into silence, their breathing synching unconsciously until they had finished their drinks, when Ilsa turned to face him once more. “Come on, Merlin. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest properly.”

He bit back a grin and she threw him a look. “Don’t go getting any ideas. I’m just making good on my infamous bedside manner, the one you obviously missed so much.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He allowed her to carefully pull him up from the couch and lead him into the second bedroom, down the hall from hers.

He sighed again when he was finally reclined on the mattress, and Ilsa could tell that the pain in his ribs had turned into a dull throbbing, from the way his breathing deepened slightly.

She pulled off his shoes for him, receiving a thankful smile. “See, good bedside manner,” he murmured, already half asleep.

“Don’t get used to it,” she warned.

A smile tugged at her lips when a very soft snore escaped his throat in answer. Pulling the blankets over him, to ward off the chill of sleep, she decided that the reason for him being here early didn’t matter. If it was important, he would tell her. Instead of fretting over it, she’d just enjoy his unexpected company. It was always nice not being stuck in a safe-house alone, in-between missions.

At least this way, she’d have a poker buddy to make time go faster.

Giving him one last look, she impulsively leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to his forehead, careful to miss the cut above his eyebrow.

“Sweet dreams, oh mighty wizard.”

A few seconds later, the bedroom door fell shut behind her with a soft click, preventing her from seeing the sleepy smile on Ethan’s face.

 

-fin

  
  



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